Love Is Sacred
by redcloudedleopard
Summary: Inman's long journey home takes him through the crumbling confederacy, and he meets four individuals who aren't what they seem. They are in search of a hidden sanctuary called Paradise - the key to freeing oneself of the war and chaos of this world.
1. The End

"_It's time to go, Inman. The others are waiting." _

"_I'm stealing one last look at her." _

"_On the contrary - it won't be the last look you give her. "_

"_Kiba, what _place_ can I lay down my head to rest if not my Ada?" As her name tore from his lips it broke his heart. He was then surprised to find a lump in his left pocket. Reaching into it, he tugged - pulling out the book of Bartram's travels. __Sometimes just reading the name of a place near home - Sorell Cove, Fire Scale Ridge - enough to break your heart. How can a name, not even the real name, break your heart? _

_Inman stared hard and cold at his love, who bent down sobbing on the near-frozen corpse. _His_ corpse. In a flash, the life in a person - even one trained to get his hands dirty with Yankee bloodstains - can be extinguished. _

"_Paradise will unite you both in time. You have to trust me." The arctic wolf spun around to face the dawning new world - every knoll dotted with flowers. An emotional warmth, cool and fiery, soothed his every inch. With that the ex-soldier let his right foot pull him forward and toward the light as well. If it was instinct that had driven him to find his love, it was now telling him to let go…for now. _


	2. Chapter 1

Proving their mettle as stealthy young soldiers, two men exchanged their whispers amid the confines of an underground tunnel:

"Enough powder here to blow a hole in the sky.."

"Yeah, a real Yankee good mornin'."

History was about to turn one of its more dramatic pages. Seeing no more stone walls than powder kegs, the men made their noiseless exit from the poorly lit passage.

_By sunrise, the ground here would have shifted till it could not mend itself…_

* * *

><p>"That old book of yours is in shreds."<p>

William Peter Inman turned to face his acquaintance, muttering, "Same as us. Seen too much war." Written on his countenance was a grin, though grim. War was too persistent to be simply called horrific; he had found too how a word like 'thick' could go with war, like it might in a poem.

"Hey, that's fresh breakfast!" came a shriek from down a path of the siege.

"I saw him first!"

"Come on!"

It was a comical scene, as an excited parade of soldiers were after something so small Inman couldn't make it out. "Get your paws off my rabbit! Get your paws off my rabbit!" he heard the young men exclaim. Troops, when desperate, wouldn't be cherry-picking for food.

But as time appeared to stop for an unreal moment, it robbed Inman's expression of everything but dread. The yellow flash from the earth's bowels, followed by pitch-black shutting out all light and air. His arms had been grazed too by the subtly sharp sand grains, threatening to expose raw flesh. Where had he left his photograph of Ada? That split-second, the fear shook him that Ada had left him in a void of forgotten memories.

Beyond the siege, hidden in a thicket of hedges were three curious pairs of eyes.

"_He's never one to toe the line."_ The sandy-coloured wolf cocked his head.

His white-furred companion lowered the tip of his muzzle to the ground. _"Busying himself too close to humans. You two going to play the fool too?"_

"_No, of course we won't,"_ next was a yip from the red wolf, the youngest and scrawniest of the group.

Reddish-brown dust was nothing to a wolf's sense of sight. The plain piece of paper held the glowing face of a woman. She wasn't smiling, and didn't look like the kind that held smiles for long. The grey wolf wondered how an object could have an everyday scent, yet hold those yellow eyes for not less than five breaths. Undeniably, this face was a somewhat familiar one…Suddenly he remembered. The horse whose rider had fallen off - it stood there, its affected sense of direction reflecting an unsound mind. He was to lure it out to the woods so the others could bring it down.

He barked at the animal, _"Git! I'm warning you - move it or else!" _Clamping his jaw at the horse's knobby knees was like making thunder. He looked up, noticing the bright white of the beast's eyes. This proved it was muddled enough in thought. With that he threatened with the most chilling snarl he had, even snapping one of its legs to direct it past the siege's perimeter.

By chance, the same rabbit chased by the soldiers now lay limp in the sandy wolf's fangs. Except his ears were half drooped in discontentment, _"This won't feed all four of us."_

"_He will." _A growl from the grey wolf was the signal to attack. Digging into the horse's side were the teeth of the red wolf, but the one to make the finishing move - the jugular vein - was the white wolf. The natural leader in him pushed him to bare his fangs at his grey friend, "Fetching us all this meat could've been a cardinal mistake." They each tugged at one leg of their huge prey, dragging the carcass deeper into the viridian shade.

"Some way to show appreciation," snorted the grey wolf. Fur bristled and hackles were raised.

"_Please. Stop,"_ yelped the youngest pack member. _"Let's each have our fill, and continue searching afterwards." _The fragrance of the sole Lunar Flower they were tracking hadn't been lost since they'd picked it up four days ago. It was like standing on air suddenly, when they first smelt it. A balm of healing for their kind and for the world. People now thought that wolves were extinct; obviously that wasn't so. But if the humans believed so, it could buy the pack time to give it their last shot at finding eternal rest.

"_Do you still have its scent?"_ asked the sandy wolf, looking to the snowy white one.

"_My nose - it's clogged with a smell like iron."_

The grey pack member sniffed the air._ "Their weapons?" _

"_It's a river of human blood." _

In the siege, Inman scrambled out hurriedly from under the sand's weight. All this dust had blocked out the rising sun. If he sank deeper into the chaos, he wouldn't be giving a care of what else the dust could cloud and lock away. He'd be smiling wickedly, and be at war with the words spewing from his bloodied lips.


End file.
